She favored him with a slow intoxicating glance of the hazel eyes. "You fool!" she whispered.
"Eh?"
"Can't you see?"
"See what?"
"I couldn't really refuse you anything."
Jack was sorry now that he had asked her to stay. He saw the situation approaching from which no man can extricate himself with dignity and self-respect entire. But he was not sure that he wished to extricate himself. In his confusion he chose the worst possible course: that is, to laugh it off.
"That's good! Five minutes ago you hated me like a rattlesnake!"
"What's the difference?" she murmured. "I hate you because—because you treat me so. When I—Oh, why do you make me say it!"
She was breathing quickly and her eyes were large and bright. Jack wondered how much of this feeling was real, and how much art. But no man wants to disbelieve a woman when she intimates that she loves him.
She suddenly leaned across the table, and took his hand between both of hers. Her proud head was lowered in an affecting way. "Love—! Hate—!" she murmured brokenly. "What's the difference? You drive me wild with your cool airs, your indifference! Sometimes I could kill you! But—but I wouldn't want you any different either. I want you to master me!"